Trevena. Cornwall. 26 April 2018
Calling from above, the humble Wren sings late into the evening; oblivious of humanity.
Below, the penny dreadful people slam their shots in an effort to impress their vacuous peers.
Industrious labour, nest building in fading light. Time is always too short and the weather always too fickle.
The f-ers and blinders, the empty vessels, the 'what's wrong with this country' sages hold centre stage.
The little cave dweller, Troglodytes troglodytes, more noble and worthy than its human counterpart.
Empty heads with crocodile shirts perform, knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing.
Back and forth little bird, back and forth. Working hard and harder still, then erupting in joyous exuberance.
The shameful loudmouths, emboldened by silence, now have a platform to vent their spleens.
Quiet above now; as darkness covers the natural world. A simpler, more just world of effort and reward...